Lay back and accept your fate

The stinking pink haze of the stone crawler's stomach is filled with the sloshing of the digestive fluids and the wet slithering of the many tendrils. Already the barbed tendrils that grip your ankles and snake up your pale thighs slopping your body in heavy mucus have raised bloody scratches in your skin and injected a dizzying dose of their poison. You feel relaxed and happy. Welcoming to the idea of whatever might happen.

Some tiny voice cries out for you to fight, but you silence it and smile with contentment, reclining among the the slithering tendrils that are wrapping themselves around your body. As you stretch out and enjoy the sensations you are dimly aware of two dark tendrils much larger than the others emerging from the hazy depths of the stone crawler's stomach.

The smaller, pale tendrils wrap around your arms and legs again and again, several wrap around your throat. By now you barely feel the sting of the barbs, only the even greater pleasure of their venom. You squirm and moan with ecstasy, your leathers torn away by the tendrils, your body naked and arching with pleasure amid the squirming tendrils. Only your boots remain. Mist from the sphincters on the stomach wall coat your body in digestive fluids and your skin feels warm and turns a sunburned red.

The two large tendrils approach you and one moves to your head and the other your feet. They are like mucus-dripping miniatures of the great worm that swallowed you. Their mouths part and one gathers your feet up and begins pulling your legs into its length. The other presses against the top of your head. You can feel the tight pressure of it opening up and engulfing your head, then darkness as it covers your eyes.

You feel a sharp pain as teeth cut into you and suction as the two tendrils begin to drain your blood. Although you can barely breathe and you feel your life ebbing away, you moan and squirm with pleasure.

Soon you have been sucked completely dry and your dead body hangs limp as the two stomach tendrils meet just beneath your large breasts. After a bit more action from the digestive juices they separate, each with half of you, and they regurgitate these glistening, ragdoll halves into the digestive liquid. Your shriveled head lays atop the forgotten shining stone. The stone is protected by magic and will still be there in the pool of acids long after the enzymes have reduced even your skeleton to nutrients for the stone crawler.

You have failed in your quest and perished. What becomes of the land without you is none of your concern.